


The Flower that Hides the Serpent

by Kasamira



Series: They Will Know Me By My Teeth [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Bad Parenting, Cersei's Questionable Mental State, Conspiracy, Drabble, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I know it, Introspection, Justice, Mentor/Protégé, Murder, Revenge, There's something here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24978202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasamira/pseuds/Kasamira
Summary: "No. You're not a little bird, you are the flower that hides the serpent. Sweet scents fill the air, petals draw you in."The Prince brushed his hand against the blue rose, long fingers wrapped around her hands, pressing her fingers into the stem."But thorns rend flesh and the flower hides scales...dripping fangs. When you strike, they never see it coming."Oberyn released her hand, when Sansa looked down she found she had hardly noticed the blood. His hands were stained as well.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister/Oberyn Martell, Joffrey Baratheon/Margaery Tyrell, Oberyn Martell & Sansa Stark, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Oberyn Martell/Sansa Stark, Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling, Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark
Series: They Will Know Me By My Teeth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827118
Comments: 16
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

"I have oft said you remind me of my brother,"

Sansa's eyes darted up at the man, startled.

"Prince Doran Martell?" She studied him warily, looking for the trap in this. The Martells hated the Lannister's she knew, although they had readily accepted the match between the Princess Myrcella and Prince Trystane.

"I am sure they speak of him in King's Landing. They whisper of an old man grown gouty, weak, and feeble as a reed. The Lannister's believe us frightened, cowering in our Dornish huts below the Marshes.”

The whispers of the Dornish had never been kind, it was true. Though the voices spoke more often of the Red Viper, especially now that the man resided in King's Landing until the wedding.

Less was spoken of Prince Doran, although it was widely known he was the more apt to make peace than his younger brother. Furtive whispers of Oberyn Martell's penchant for poison had followed well ahead of the Dornish party, many said the man had studied poisons at the Citadel in years past, and now used that knowledge to coat his blades. 

For all his reputation the man had not been unkind to her, that had frightened her more than cruelty. What did he want from her? The Red Viper’s black eyes had followed her as she walked the length of the Throne Room, the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, and now here, the gardens.

Sansa remembered Lord Tyrion's words when he'd returned from welcoming the Dornish entourage.

_The_ _r_ _e will be blood in the gutters._

Tyrion had been speaking to his sellsword as he entered their chambers. His words had been proved true not even a day later, Sansa had heard a Tyrell man had been killed by a Dornishman, and that two others had been stabbed. None of the killing had been done by Prince Oberyn, she had noted. A brawl had nearly broken out in the yard after the little Queen of Thorns had called Ellaria Sand _the viper's whore_. Shae had told her, who had heard it from a Tyrell maid, who'd had it from Megga and Alinor.

"The Lannister's power in the city is overripe. They rot on the vine, and will fall just as quick"

Sansa could not respond to that, either to scream her approval, or beg the Prince to hold his tongue. These gardens had ears, little birds that sold their whispers to the Spider.

"The Lannister's hold the seven kingdoms, they hold Dorne," she reminded him carefully.

The prince's black eyes stared at her. The man was always smiling with his mouth, his eyes frightened her. 

"The Lannister's lost the Seven Kingdoms. Your brother marches South with the North at his back, your uncle follows with his host of Riverlords, the Vale refuses to aid the crown or meet your brother in the field. The Greyjoys are in open rebellion, Stormlords march with Stannis against the Lannisters, and the Florents have divided the Reach. The Lannister's stand alone."

"And where does Dorne stand, Prince Oberyn? Have you bowed to the _lions,_ or do you still remember your House words?"

Sansa didn't know where those words had come from, they’d leapt from her mouth and now spun before her across the hedges, and crawled into nary a wandering ear. She should have said nothing at all, should have said that she prayed for an end to the fighting.

Instead, a wild anger had filled her stomach, roiling and burning with every word. She was well informed of Robb's battles, Sansa could still feel every victory lingering in her body. Robb’s victories on the field left their marks upon his sister in mailed fists, sword flats across her thighs, cuts and thin silvery scars traced her back. 

_Green Fork, Whispering Wood, the Camps at Riverrun, Oxcross, the Fords, Harrenhal._

Every one of Robb's victories was borne across her body. 

"Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken"

The man's viper eyes were smiling at her.

Prince Oberyn did not seem angry at her insult, Sansa had expected him to be wroth, she had heard rumors of the Red Viper's rage.

Instead this tall dark man smiled at her with his eyes, and mocked her with his words.

_I have said you oft remind me of my brother._

She could not help but look for the insult in his words. 

"My brother is not blind, nor deaf. The gods were kind and chose our birth wisely, when they gave Dorne to my brother and not me."

The prince plucked a long stemmed blue rose from a bush, severed the stem carefully with his blade, and presented it to her.

_The gods were never kind._

She had learned that when they mounted her father's head on the Traitors Walk, and learned it anew on the flats of the Kingsguards blades. 

"The Lannister's think only of today, never of tomorrow. They gorge themselves on blood and battles, then return to this stinking city slavvering for more. They butchered my family here, my sister Elia and her children. You are _so young_ , my lady, perhaps you haven't heard the story."

The man stepped closer, the embroidery of his doublet whispered over Sansa’s skirts.

"Lannister men carved them up, and laid my family down in bloody cloaks in the same place Aerys had your grandfather and uncle roasted alive. The same stone your Lord Father was cut down on before the court, the same stone your golden prince has you beat and stripped."

Sansa couldn't look at him, if she looked she would cry, or spit at him. There was a furious heat behind her eyes, and in the back of her throat.

This was the black rage they'd warned her about. She recognized the anger in his eyes, Prince Oberyn gripped her chin, his black viper's eyes bored into her. His rage was reflected in her own eyes. 

"Yes. Just like my brother, pleasant, complaisant, and _so sweet_."

Prince Oberyn ran a finger down her cheek.

"Sweet as the Maiden, gracious as the Mother, pleasant, and always complaisant. Doran is the same, he is the tall grass, swaying with every breeze. Easily trampled, easily cut down. The Lannister's see you as a broken thing, _little dove_ , the Queen calls you.”

The Prince brushed his hand against the blue rose, long fingers wrapped around her hands, pressing fingers into the stem.

"No. You're not a little bird, you are the flower that hides the serpent. Sweet scents fill the air, petals draw you in." 

The Prince coiled closer, Sansa could smell him, lemons and dry red spice that made her think of sand and heat. 

"But thorns rend flesh. The flower hides scales and dripping fangs. When you strike, they never see it coming." 

Oberyn released her hand, when Sansa looked down she found she had hardly noticed the blood. His hands were stained as well. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The events of this chapter take place at the beginning of ASOS
> 
> It occurred to me while writing this I should put some sort of disclaimer, these are Cersei's thoughts/views, not mine own. She thinks some pretty awful things, there are a few vague references to violence/assault, and has some bigoted views on... well pretty much everyone to varying degrees. Cersei has severe issues with internalized misogyny. (Look at her relationship to Taena for more evidence of that) This comes up in her views- especially on women, and the Dornish in this chapter. 
> 
> She also fits the bill for a narcissistic- Cersei is utterly unable to realize other people have internal dialogues. She views them in one of two ways- loyal and disloyal. Disloyal and scheming and treacherous. Loyal are lackspittles and weak and fumbling in some way. Only she, in her mind, is competent. 
> 
> This is a purely book!Cersei, not show. I love Lena to death but book!Cersei only views her children as extensions of herself, and has very few redeemable qualities. I do love her AFFC's chapters- god they're good.

A cold rain had fallen in the night, it bite into the stones of the Red Keep, stained the ramparts and turned the castle dark as blood. The dawn came, earlier than Cersei would have liked, when shadows still loomed tall around her bed Senelle woke her with a light touch to the queen's shoulder. 

"Lord Tywin sends for you to break your fast in the Hand's solar, your Grace," 

Cersei closed her eyes, wishing one last moment of respite. No soft greetings or pretty words would meet her this morning. Cersei's head was sluggish from sleep, body aching and stiff, her bed maid had done a poor job, the girl had slabs of ice for feet, and Cersei had half a mind to be done with her. Done with her and the Dornish host that had ridden into King's Landing not yet a fortnight ago.

Now Dornishmen capered in the yard, their women glided down her halls in garish silks, and tousled hair. The only joy she had received from their presence in the Red Keep came from watching the little Queen of Thrones seethe at their presence. The old crone had done the mistake of insulting the Prince's whore, Cersei had delighted in that, regretting deeply she had been unable to give witness. To parade some baseborn _woman_ around so publicly, not even Robert had shamed her in such a way. And for good reason, as much as Robert drank and whored, not even he was so great a fool, dead whores piled up quickly. 

She must needs play the kind and gracious lady, accept Dornish ladies into her court, greet them in the halls, host the highborn at her table, and accept their offers of grief on behalf of her dead and rotting Robert. It seemed a new one every day sought to alleviate her grief at Robert being stuck by that boar, they were no fools, she saw the cruel delight in Lady Blackmont and Lady Jordayne's eyes at the mere mention of his death.

_Fools_. Cersei would have delighted to tell each one every detail of Robert's sickbed. The way the pig had torn open the man who was little better, left him feverish and stinking in such pain she could almost taste it at the back of her throat. If it had been seemly she would have visited the spot the boar had gored the fat fool, dipped a favor in the blood and kept it where she would see it always. _Alas_. Instead Cersei had been forced to don mourning attire and go about in a black veil. It was the mere mention of her husband that drew her ire. She was Queen, not Robert's Queen, not any longer. Cersei ruled, her pig of a husband would not taint her children or the legacy she intended.

By all rights these tasks should have been set to someone of lower status, She was the Queen, not some castellan's daughter fit to give simpering smiles and entertain visiting lords. If she'd had her way she wouldn't have let the Dornish into the Red Keep at all, let them lay their heads wherever they may find them.

_I am certain half are no stranger to whore houses and the rest were well used to earning coin on their backs._

A basin of water had been set out to wash her hands and face. The nights were growing colder, but she still had yet to call for heavier garments, the silks would do. 

It had been more than a fortnight since Lord Tywin had arrived at the banks of the Blackwater, Cersei had never felt such relief in her life, as when word had come of her father's arrival. The terror had blurred much of the battle from her memory, she had vague recollections of sharing a cup of wine with little Sansa. _Drink, little dove._ You and I had equal need of it. 

"The red silk, Senelle." Cersei commanded, sipping water and lemon. No more lemon, she would soon grow sick of it if her father had his way. 

Senelle was slow today, her hair was growing lank, skin pimply. Was it so difficult to have competent maids? Must they be ugly, a queen should not have ugly bedmaids. This girl had been year some years, since her flowering or shortly after, Cersei assumed, the girl was quiet, so Cersei had barely chanced to learn her name. It had been several years, she concluded, a queen did not concern herself in servants lives, if her pimply face continued she'd send the girl to _Lady_ Margaery. 

Father had not been pleased, he hadn't struck her as Robert was wont to do, but she'd seen a flare of fury in his green eyes and had feared for a moment. The fury had burned bright, and she'd had more than a few cups of Arbor gold at dinner. Wine was the only way to drink down whatever swill was spewing from the Imp's mouth, if she'd imbibed more than her habit last night, it was with family.

She couldn't trust anyone in this city, Cersei remembered that. She could only trust Jaime, only ever Jaime, her golden twin. But he was gone now, still held by those wretched Starks in the Riverlands. She was alone, father had come to her aid but now he meant to sell her off again. That had been his price, her life out of Stannis's tender mercies and into her husband's. Cersei had rid herself of one boar, she did not mean to bed down with another, she'd had three beautiful golden haired children, she could not do it again. 

_"I have seen the work you've done with the boy, Cersei. If you cannot control him, I will have you removed and take him in hand myself."_

_"Joff is willful but he listens to me, Father."_

_"Did he listen to you on the matter of Ned Stark's head?" Tywin Lannister's voice cracked against her._

_"Ned Stark was a traitor, the king was well within his right to take the king's justice on behalf o-"_

_"It was foolishness. And I mean to see if it was stupidity as well, you told me the boy cared naught for Robert and had none of his impulses. Yet I see my grandson mounting Lord Paramount's heads on the walls of the Red Keep as if he is Maegor come again."_

_Cersei's fists clenched, hands twisting in the sleeves of her dress, she could see the rage in her father's pale green eyes, but his face remained hard as stone. His pale eyes could see inside you, could see how weak and worthless and ugly you were down deep. When he looked at you, you knew._

_"Let them look. Let the whole realm look and know us, let them mutter beneath their breath and give us fearful looks, I do not want their love but I will take their fear." She whispered fiercely, if she did not whisper she would rage and Cersei still carried marks from the last time she'd raged in her father's solar._

This gown was a deep red silk, that made her hair shine like beaten gold. Thin cloth of gold edged the bottom of the skirt in the shape of stags running on a wide plain of blood red cloth, horns bared aloft at the sky, roaring lions were seated above them, one on each shoulder, each had eyes of cut emerald, the same shade as her on. Long angel sleeves curved against her arms, and a bodice of black pearls emphasized the curve of her waist. She had ordered the dress commissioned before the battle, the seamstress had even had the gall to tell her it wouldn't be finished before the battle.

By which the conniving little bitch had probably meant to make off with her gold and fabric to escape her wrath when Stannis sacked the city. Cersei had sweetly suggested that they might find extra rooms in the Black Cells which would aid in her work. The stupid bint had paled, and assured her lady the dress would be finished in the appropriate time. 

Oberyn Martell, Willas Tyrell, a Redwyne, Balon Greyjoy- she seethed silently. The night before last her hands had trembled with rage at the very thought, Senelle had interrupted her thoughts and she'd sent an ivory hair brush at the girl, the queen would have no interruptions. She was the Queen, not some whore to be bought and sold. Lord Tywin should be asking-no begging for her leave, asking his daughter for counsel as Queen Regent. Not selling her off like some broodmare, and exiling her to the red sands of Dorne. Or Highgarden. The salt stained rocks of Pyke to die with a wind burned face and salt stained clothes. 

Senelle helped her into a thin linen chemise, a deep slash was cut into the front which allowed her to step in easily. It came from the Free Cities, an older fashion she had kept from girlhood even as styles changed, her mother had often worn similar linen chemises. As Senelle slowly laced her stays, Cersei appreciated her gown.

The silk was from Myr, a recent gift from some Reach bannermen's wife that had been send ahead of the party at the signing of the betrothal contract between Joff and the Tyrell girl. Gifts that spoke of even greater personal ambition, Cersei knew how these games were played, she would accept graciously yet keep her eyes open to their schemes and plots.

Today, Cersei broke her fast in the Hands solar. Her Father's things had been moved there quickly after the Battle of the Blackwater. She had watched with some glee as Tyrion's objects were removed, after having her brother removed to Maegor's she had begun taken her midday meal in his sickroom with some Westerlands ladies. Lady Tanda had heard of his charge through the Mud Gate and wished to pay her and Lolly's respects in the hope the imp would recover and still wed her swine of a daughter.

Cersei had indulged the older woman, and privately wondered the entire Stokworth line was tainted. Even after she'd gotten herself a bastard and half the smallfolk of King's Landing between her legs, the mother was as simple as the daughter. Cersei had prayed for his death, her valonqar, nice slow death, like the one he'd given her mother when he'd ripped his way free. Watching the man in agony had been a joy to watch, although her ladies hadn't eaten much, Cersei had indulged in boar, she'd grown such a taste for it since one had gored her dear husband. 

The dwarf had flopped and sweat and writhed in his sick bed, ugly little mishapen face made worse by a wreck of a nose. If Moore hadn't died on the Blackwater like the incompetent useless wretch he was, she would have given him to Ilyn Payne's blade. No, that would have drawn unwanted attention- it was better he had died on the Blackwater.

If she had any luck, he'd burned to death by wildfire. And wouldn't that have been a sight. Still even the vile creature's suffering hadn't stayed her attention for long, Cersei was Queen, and Lord Tywin needed to know the state of the realm. She had kept him well informed. 

_"I have been fighting this war for you, yet I hear you've staggered from one idiocy to another, beggared the realm, and given Harrenhal to a butcher."_

_"I have been fighting against enemies on all sides, Father! These Stark's schemed against us to seat Stannis on the throne, I had to protect Joff's claim-"_

_"You made butcher's work of a Lord Paramount on the Sept of Baelor." Lord Twin's voice was colder than steel and cut just as quick. "Now, the Faith of the Seven shuns the king, and by extension the Baratheon reign, and the Lannister family. The High Septon will not offer your boy the Seven Blessings in the Great Sept, nor will he allow the wedding to be anointed by the Seven because you spilled blood on the most holy house in all the realm!" He did not shout but the words still echoed off the walls._

_"It was by order of the king, Joffrey had every ri-" She had found her voice._

_"Be quiet." The man stared at her silently, Cersei felt judgement dripping from his gaze as it fixed on her face. She felt half a child again after committing some small offense and sent to receive punishment._

_"Until a fortnight ago, your foolish actions here in King's Landing nearly had the war lost. Now, you will take your boy in hand. And if you cannot do that, Cersei, then you will set aside your Crown, and do your duty to this family."_

Her beautiful skin would turn red, blister, peel. She would see Myrcella again, her Imp brother had said to her. As if it were some comfort, she had begged the gods to give her his death, quiet her sleep, and she should have well known. Her brother mocked her with his eyes, a half hidden sneer on his twisted lips, she would be sent to Dorne, and he would stay here as Master of Coin to help father rule. She was regent, she was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and now they were taking everything from her.

Her father's words echoed in her mind _I hear you speak oft of your rights Cersei, yet little of your duty._

What did her father, or any man now of a woman's duty, she thought bitterly. Lord Tywin had been Lord of Lannister and without a wife for nigh on twenty years, yet he lectured her of womanly duty and submission. 

_Father has been unwed longer than my marriage to Robert, he could have been begetting heirs to Casterly Rock on some bannerman's daughter._ She had done her duty, she had borne the pain of Robert in her bed, and the birthing bed three times over to bring forth lions. 

It should not be I who flinch from his look, nor his frown that I fear. Others should look at me and tremble. 

_"I have heard it told that your brother has been released or yet escaped his cell in Riverrun."_

_Cersei's hand gripped the chair's arm beneath her, her head swam, and she felt nauseous with relief._

_"Jaime is coming to King's Landing?" She hardly dared speak the words, yet could also not speak them quick enough in her haste._

_"Indeed. It appears you are not the only fool with hostages in the realm. Thankfully daughter, you have accomplished setting precedent of releasing kingsguard member's prior to their deaths. My son will benefit from that, I will have my heir returned to me, and take back what was stolen. Your boy will release him, Jaime will lay down his white cloak, and take up the lion of Lannister, and his place as heir of the Rock. Each of us must needs do our duty, Cersei, your brother will marry as well befits his station. And soon."_

And now she will be sent off to hell, her and Jaime both, to different ends of the kingdom. Dornish sands would roughen her face and hands, and darken her skin.

Cersei would look like some fishmonger's wife within the year.

She would see the Dornish take her daughter. Dress her up in orange and red, not the Lannister red, garish Martell colors would cloak her daughter, and Myrcella would sing their words.

_Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken._

Husbands always liked to hear their wives say their house words. Her darling, sweet daughter was too good for those savages, the girl had always been too kind too sweet to be her daughter. Myrcella had her look, but she never saw danger in any corner, never cast her eyes over the Throne Room holding the power of death over life and found those present _wanting_. Her sweet girl was good, like Tommen, but too meek. To easily cowed by words. That was why she had Joffrey, he was her strength, but he was young yet. Impulsive, his actions with the Stark girl had proven that. Stupid little girl, she should have known better, her very presence taunted Joff, and was a stain on her good will.

Yet Sansa Stark daughter to traitors would stay here, in King's Landing, at court, while she Queen for nineteen years, mother to the King and proud Lady of the Rock was being shipped off to hell to rot.

She'd had visions of them ruling together. The roaring lion of House Lannister, her in place as regent until Joff came of age, Jaime stood at her side protecting mother and son both in a Lannister cloak and sword in hand. Her Lord Father as Hand, guiding Joff as he grew into a man, Cersei had had to be both mother and father to the boy, god knows Robert never took much an interest. The poor boy was starved for true companions, and a father's love. Her own father would not give him the love he needed but the elder man would school Joffrey in the daily ruling she had never interested herself in.

Her father knew these things, ruling Casterly Rock, he would teach her son what was worthy of a king's time and what lesser duties would be allotted to his small council. She would teach him who to trust, and guide his hand. 

Cersei's chest felt heavy, she had spent long hours longing for Jaime's presence in the city, in the Red Keep, and in her bed. When they lay together his gold spun hair would entwine with her own, each strand identical to the other, impossible to tell one from the other. She found herself desperately yearning for her other half, her twin.

Senelle stepped back, Cersei watched herself in the looking glass, she had just woken from deep sleep, yet the shadows in her chamber were heavier than before, and seemed to grow larger with each breath, mists fell into the corners, and her body was exhausted and bone deep weary.

She wanted to sleep, she wanted to weep, but most of all she wanted Jaime. 


End file.
